by Sean Platt
Another cheesy wipe effect, this one with an ocean wave.
“Come to Eden,” Wallace said. “We will be waiting.”
The spot concluded without a call to action, unless you counted Wallace’s vague “Come to Eden” and his unspoken invitation: And walk on its cinders.
But that was standard; Eden’s commercials never gave you a website, a phone number, an address, or anything at all. They talked about Eden, and if you were interested you were apparently supposed to do the research.
The screen faded to black. White type faded in.
Ephraim read the words, Risen from the ashes, followed by a date.
Tomorrow’s date.
Ephraim was squinting at the screen when the screen jump-cut back to the program in progress. He saw several made-up-to-look-young but obviously over 18-year-old choirboys bent over a pew with their bare asses out, a nun walking behind them slapping a paddle lightly against her hand.
Bless me sister, for I have sinned …
And then a whack of the paddle, followed by a yelp of delight.
Ephraim turned off the screen, picked up his Doodad, and made a call while something itched in his brain, refusing to leave him alone.
CHAPTER 39
WHAT DO I KNOW?
Neven entered the building hoping to run into Jonathan. He found Ephraim instead, standing beside several ghosts setting a sheet of glass into place atop an all-glass coffin. There were several other already-assembled boxes around the room, each on a pedestal.
Neven looked at Ephraim, already forgetting his errand with Jonathan.
“What the hell is this?” he demanded.
Ephraim looked up, smiling. “Do you like it?”
“We decided against rebuilding the Enchanted Forest,” Neven said.
“I don’t remember that.”
But they had. Not just once, but many times. Neven had been adamant against it, and Jonathan had argued for it. Neven had won because he was in charge. But was what he saw now shocking? Not in the least. No matter what the legal papers said, Ephraim had always considered Eden to be Jonathan’s inheritance, his to use (and apparently decorate) as he wished.
Experience and knowledge and seniority, Ephraim had said more than once, should always trump nepotism.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The entire thing had been rebuilt exactly like before. Neven could blubber all he wanted, but the deed had already been done.
“It’s just as it was,” Ephraim said.
“It shouldn’t be at all.”
“Jonathan wanted it. For ‘before the curtain’ showmanship.”
“It doesn’t matter what Jonathan wanted. I said no.”
“It’s a little late. Maybe if you had a problem, you should’ve said something sooner.”
“Jesus. Are you kidding me, Ephraim? Take it apart.”
Ephraim laughed. “Take what apart? The whole building?”
Neven looked up, taking in the pool and rain shower from above. Ephraim was right. It wasn’t just the custom enclosures amiss; it was the entire structure. Even if he disassembled the coffins and platforms, the building would be there. It was a question of leaving it empty for spite or finishing the build as originally planned and later vetoed.
That’s what he got for focusing on the Hopper and DataCrate while leaving Eden’s rebuild to the Todds. But it was okay; it’d all be fine. Yes, he resented being usurped. But this was just one more infuriating example of why Neven’s covert choices were, in fact, the right ones.
“Never mind,” he said. “Where’s Jonathan?”
“He’s on the Denizen.”
“Overseeing more construction?”
“Courting guests.”
“Courting? How?”
“He’s showing a virtual tour to some prospects.”
“Which prospects?”
“Lots of inquiries followed the new commercial.”
“We haven’t run any of the new commercials.”
“Yes, we have. Don’t you—”
“We agreed to hold them off until …” Neven stopped, seeing the way Ephraim was trying hard to repress a superior smile. Furious, he turned to leave. But before he could, Ephraim called out from behind.
“How are things with me?”
Neven turned. “Me?”
“You know, the clone of me in New York. How’s he doing?”
“The project is on track.”
“Is he crazy?”
“As I said, he’s on track.”
At first, Ephraim didn’t reply. Neven was about to turn again when Ephraim put a finger to his cheek.
“You know what I wonder? If I were in the Ephraim clone’s position — if I’d gone through what he’s gone through and believed what he believes — I wonder if I’d lose my mind, too?”
“You’re not the same as him.” And in Neven’s mind, he clarified: You’re worse. He’s better. The clone is noble, and you’re an ass.
“But the pressure’s intense, right? He’s got GEM on one side and Fiona on the other, with us somewhere in between. I know the clone’s not me, but we’re built from the same stuff.”
“Your minds aren’t identical. He’s had a lifetime of conditioning, and I’ve been giving him subliminals since he left. You, on the other hand, are,” Neven was going to finish with, “fucked up for entirely different reasons,” but it felt inappropriate. There was no point rocking the boat further with Ephraim. This would be all over, with Neven the victor, soon enough.
“I get it. But that’s what I’m saying. Anyone can be conditioned and hear subliminals. If you whispered in my ear for long enough, would I snap?”
Neven didn’t want to play this game. Ephraim wasn’t stupid, but Neven suspected that he acted stupidly sometimes just to piss him off. Ever since his early disagreements with his father, Neven had never liked explaining himself. And yet Ephraim was always asking, always saying the wrong things and daring Neven to correct him.
It wasn’t just “whispering” that would tip the clone over the edge. It was the realization that he was fallible, and eventually, the realization that he was a clone. That wasn’t going to happen with Ephraim, who wasn’t a clone, but an asshole instead.
When Neven didn’t answer, Ephraim continued.
“Is he finally ‘conditioned’ to come back here?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“Oh, just answer the question, Neven.”
“I think he’s getting the idea.”
“Is he convinced yet that Fiona had Jonathan killed?”
“Possibly.”
“You think he can play both Fiona and Wood like a double-agent? He’s not exactly James Bond. I mean, I know I’m not.”
“He did fine on Eden.”
Ephraim scoffed. “Because you could see every little bit of what he was up to and adjust on the fly. Because you let him get away with it, practically holding his hand through the whole thing. The people in New York won’t play along like we did.”
“He’ll be fine. He’ll get what we need from Wood plus Fiona’s mind-mapping tech.”
“And then you’ll get it from him how?”
“I’ll get it when he brings it all back to Eden.”
“If he comes to Eden.”
“He will.”
But Ephraim wasn’t listening. “He’ll never come back here. He nearly lost his balls trying to escape. Why would he be dumb enough to think he could get here undetected even if he wanted to, and why would he ever want to?”
“That’s my problem, not yours.”
“Maybe you should open your eyes, Neven. Even if the clone wants to kill Fiona for killing Jonathan, what makes you think he will, or can? He’s a killer, sure. But from where I’m standing, if I were him — and I pretty much am — it’s you I’d want to kill.”
Ephraim tapped his chin.
“Yes. I’d come here. I’d find you at night. And I’d slit your throat so that my brother, once I realized he was
alive, could claim his rightful inheritance.”
Neven waited through several very long seconds. Was that a threat? It had sure sounded like one, but Ephraim was already back to grinning like an idiot. Did fools have guile? Or were fools merely fools?
“But hell,” Ephraim said, laughing. “What do I know?”
CHAPTER 40
ONE HEAVY STONE
Fiona watched the screen, seeing Maria approach from the corner of her eye. She’d been paralyzed for most of her life, but every time she saw someone sidelong, her muscles wanted to twitch — to turn her head, to see the person properly. It was yet another example of instinct deeper than habit; her body’s unwillingness to forget what her mind knew.
“You were right,” Maria said, moving toward Fiona’s front. “Ephraim Todd is a clone.”
“You’re sure?”
Maria nodded. “I had the lab team take samples from the Sophie Norris clone. Her DNA sequence compared to the original Sophie’s sequence — pulled from hair left in the helicopter after we picked her and Ephraim up in the ocean — shows how an original person differs from its clone, which went through rapid aging using the Precipitous Rise process. In essence, ‘Sophie compared to Sophie’ gave us a ‘fingerprint’ for identifying Eden-made clones. The man who left skin flakes in that chair yesterday has the same genetic fingerprint.”
“Have I ever met the real Ephraim? Has it always been the clone?”
“Hard to say. But if the way he came to you in the first place seemed ‘super coincidental …’” Maria trailed off after repeating the words Fiona had used hours earlier, just before ordering the lab tests. It had always been the clone. And that meant that Evermore, not Fiona, had always been a step ahead, using the clone as a spy. It was unfortunate; but now that they knew, the tables could be turned in Riverbed’s favor.
“The lab feels the proof is conclusive?” Fiona asked.
Another nod. “They told me that Ephraim’s DNA shows …” Maria raised her tablet, scanning for notes she’d apparently made to get the wording right. “… ‘all the same molecular incision sequences.’ I guess those are places where Eden manually reorders a clone’s DNA or cuts it with restriction enzymes.”
“Enzymes? They don’t create the sequence entirely from scratch, nucleotide by nucleotide?”
Maria shrugged. “I’m a nurse. You’re the scientist. I can send the team up if you’d like.”
“Maybe later.”
“The guys in the lab did say there are large gaps in their understanding, even with Sophie’s and now Ephraim’s DNA to analyze. There’s only so much they can figure out by reverse-engineering. If you want Eden’s secret sauce—”
“I know. I need to go to the source. Some of what we need might be in the MyLife data we haven’t decrypted yet, but I’m betting that won’t be enough. We need Eden, not ‘Eden second-hand.’ Has Ephraim been in touch?”
Maria seemed surprised. “How did you know?”
“Because it makes sense for Wood to try and send him back to Eden, and he’ll need my help to get there.”
“Back? He’d never go back.” Maria raised her eyebrows. “Unless you want him to go back too.”
“As I said, we need to go to the source.”
“You want him to just walk onto Eden and root around for instructions? Is he just supposed to ask this guy Neven how he makes clones?”
“When Ephraim called, did he say anything about Wood? Did the two of them meet up?”
“He was cagey. But yes, they met.”
“I’d be worried if he weren’t cagey. I’m sure he’s trying to play both sides. Wood probably gave him something — tech maybe, but instructions for-sure — and wants Ephraim to get something from me on the sly. Or from Eden.”
“Is this a guess?”
“People don’t expect much from me, Maria. They think I’m harmless. It’s one of the reasons I’ve always been such a great negotiator. Nobody sees me coming. But I notice things especially well. I’m sure Ephraim is keeping many secrets, but he’s terrible at it. He wants to be honest, but the situation won’t allow it. And what would you do in his position? He doesn’t trust me, and he’d be an idiot to put a molecule of faith in Wood. His only choice is to walk the line between us while pretending he isn’t. Playing both sides, as I said.”
“You haven’t made it easy for him to trust anyone, Fiona.”
“You know I’m on his side. I have to be. But he’s a spoiler. If he knows too much, he blows it for everyone.”
“What do you think he’s planning to do?”
“Maybe go to Eden. Play his own game. He’ll try and get things out of me, so let’s queue up some stuff for him to ‘discover on his own,’ let him feel a victory. Oh, and I want Freddie and Ray in the room whenever I’m around him from here on out.”
“Why?”
“Because I wouldn’t be surprised if he plans to kill me.”
Maria laughed. The sound conveyed shock, but only a little. Fiona talked this bluntly all the time.
“He killed Jonathan’s clone,” Fiona went on. “And he’s a clone himself, though I seriously doubt he’s figured it out. That means he could be conditioned. It might not even be his fault if he snaps. It could be Eden pulling his strings.”
“How could he not know he’s a clone?”
“The Sophie doesn’t know. Evermore’s mind-mapping is shit compared to ours. Even the best clones probably have giant holes in their memories, like Ephraim’s about his ‘sister.’ It’d take years of dripping to get something even close to what the Quarry can do. They almost have to be making imperfect maps and letting the clone’s brain fill in the gaps. They believe what they want to believe, just like the rest of us. Wouldn’t you have a hard time believing you were a clone, even if all the evidence pointed to yes?”
Maria half-shivered, considering the point. After a beat, she shook herself clear.
“Anyway,” Maria said, “You asked about Ephraim’s MyLife signal. You understand we can’t look at the stream’s contents and see what his eyes are seeing. We only have a record of the signal itself, and only while he was in the room, in range of the jammers. MyLife encryption is almost impossible to—”
“Of course. I just want to see the signal’s metrics.”
Maria turned Fiona’s computer, tapped around, then rotated the screen to face her. “This is what our room jammers saw his signal trying to do when he was here yesterday.”
Fiona studied the screen. “I assume you see what I see?”
“It’s Greek to me, but the girls in IT saw it just fine.”
“Someone’s hijacked Ephraim’s MyLife,” Fiona said, studying the electromagnetic wave patterns on her screen. “They’re watching him. Eden is watching, since it’s nearly impossible to hack a MyLife unless you’re the one who installed it.”
Maria nodded. “That was their conclusion as well.”
Fiona frowned. “I don’t like that it took this long to figure out that Eden has been steering Ephraim, but now that we have, it might be an advantage. We just have some work to do.”
“What work?”
Fiona’s eyes flicked toward the screen. “Take this back to IT. Give them all we have, including his previous visits to Riverbed. Ask them to pinpoint the frequency being used to snoop Ephraim’s MyLife.”
“Okay. Why?”
“Because that’ll give us the key. If Neven can get inside Ephraim’s head, I want to do the same.”
“You think we can hack his MyLife, too?”
“If we know the frequency, we can probably pull the stream apart to find the cipher. And if we can broadcast at Ephraim’s MyLife from thousands of miles closer than Neven’s signal? Well. That would be a neat little trick.”
“What would we broadcast?” Maria asked.
“If Ephraim’s been conditioned, maybe we can condition him too,” Fiona said, “and kill two birds with one heavy stone.”
CHAPTER 41
STRANGE IDEATION
/> A week after the tussle in Fiona’s office, Ephraim stood in front of a nondescript apartment door. It opened, and he saw a sliver of Hershel Wood’s face through the crack. His hair was immaculate, and he appeared to be in his usual suit, but his face seemed different. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and his eyes were buggy in their absence. Or perhaps they were frightened, if that was possible for a man like Wood.
He looked up, noticed Ephraim’s navy blue Yankees hat. It was too new, unbent and out of place. He looked down then, at Ephraim’s right hand, and the battered brown briefcase.
“Did you wear the hat the whole way over?” Wood asked, the door still mostly closed.
“Yes.”
“Did you put it on as soon as the courier delivered it to your apartment?”
“Yes.”
“And before you put it on, you didn’t make any calls or do any internet searches, right? By the time you got my message on your Doodad, you’d already put the hat on, correct?”
Ephraim nodded. He wanted to be insulted by Wood’s double-, triple-, and quadruple-checking, but he of all people understood the paranoia. Transmission jammers were illegal except by permit, usually for use only by law enforcement and VIPs like Fiona. Sewing micro jammers into the band of a hat couldn’t possibly be legal. The sewing seemed like a hatchet job. Somehow, Ephraim felt sure that Wood had threaded those tiny jammers into the hat himself, and that nobody else inside GEM knew he’d done it.
There was zero chance that this was above-board. Maybe it made sense that committing more espionage to cover his initial espionage would equal out under the law, but Ephraim doubted it worked that way. He’d felt pursued on his way over — even more paranoid than usual. If they were caught doing whatever-this-was, they’d both end up in jail. Or worse.
“I put the hat on the second it arrived,” Ephraim said.
“Is it working? Is your MyLife,” He trailed off and shrugged as if to say, … you know.
“I have no idea. Why wouldn’t it work?” Fear crawled up his neck with hot little fingers. He’d assumed Wood had done the job right, and the notion that he might not have was terrifying.